The day’s light gradually increases as the earth rolls over to meet the sun. Red and orange hues reflect off the thin, distant cloud cover across the expanse of the eastern heavens.
The day is warming up. The chill
of the early morning is gone.
The vestiges of last year’s life are few and far between. Dark brown seed pods of Cat-O’-Nine Tails are now a fluffy light tan. At this moment they resemble large wooly caterpillars who are about to take off their insulated underwear to become a part of this year’s birds nests.
Nothing in mountain country looks more worn out in the very early spring than the dark red seed clusters of Staghorn Sumac. Now that the tangy-tasting seeds have been extracted by grouse in their winter feeding, they have the appearance of rolled up, well worn socks turned inside out, waiting to be tossed into the dirty laundry of this year’s Spring cleaning.
The squirrels are chattering. God’s Mobile Flower Garden delights the eye as each bird’s song is music to the ear.
Courageous little golden-headed Colt’s Foot, one of the earliest of Appalachian Mountain wildflowers, prance along the pathways with happy, yellow smile faces.
A feeling of restless excitement nearly overwhelms us with a sense of urgency to want all that is to come in the coming weeks of Spring’s Pulsating Promise.
Copyright © 1988, 1999 Barbara A. Smith and John G. Hipps. All rights reserved.
This essay was first published April 6, 1988 in the Free-Press Courier, Westfield, Pennsylvania and is the first in a series of essays celebrating Appalachian Mountain Country Earth.